


Between Sheets

by kakera



Category: Gravitation
Genre: Confined Spaces, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pistols, really really really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:18:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3712825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakera/pseuds/kakera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hiro wasn't quite sure how he'd ended up here, crammed in a hotel laundry cart with Mr K, a tangle of limbs and lightly-used Egyptian cotton sheets. There was always some explanation, but Hiro was becoming tired of looking for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Sheets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sazzykins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sazzykins/gifts).



> Another fic writen for a prompts thingy on tumblr ([here](http://unfortunatelycake.tumblr.com/post/115890192392/send-me-a-ship-and-one-of-these-and-ill-write-a))
> 
> Sazzykins gave me the prompt  
> 16\. things you said with no space between us  
> and the pairing  
> K/Hiro

Hiro wasn't quite sure how he'd ended up here, crammed in a hotel laundry cart with Mr K, a tangle of limbs and lightly-used Egyptian cotton sheets. There was always some explanation, but Hiro was becoming tired of looking for them. Sometimes, he wondered how he put up with all the lunatics around him. Hiro was the only sane one, after all. Shuichi? Obsessive. Tohma? Control freak and a little bit scary. Fujisaki? Too damn serious. Mr K? Trigger happy. And what was with the random English, anyway? Sure, he was American, but he spoke fluent Japanese, didn't he? Couldn't he give the English a rest and speak so everyone could understand?

Hiro sighed, wishing for more personal space. He valued having room to move around without bumping into others, and right now he didn't even have that--he was stuck on top of K, barely able to move.

At least he wasn't stuck here with Sakano. Sakano would freak out and try to hang himself with the sheets. If Hiro had to be stuck there with anyone, K was that person. At least he was good looking, and strong, if a little eccentric. When K stopped waving guns around, he was actually pretty cool to spend time with. Not that they did that very often, outside of work.

 

K shifted, elbows knocking into Hiro's ribs. Hiro felt something hard pressing into his thigh, and glared at K. "That had better not be..."

"It is."

"Get it away from me."

K shook his head, a few strands of golden hair escaping his usually neat ponytail. "No Can Do," he said, in English.

Hiro sighed. "K. I don't speak English." He got the gist of what K said, anyway. "Why can't you get it away?"

"It's in my pants."

"It's in your--" Hiro growled. "Take it out then! It's hard, K!"

"You'll have to get off me first," K replied coolly. In falling into the laundry basket (down the laundry chute from outside Shuichi and Yuki's suite, where they'd been spying), he'd ended up pinned under Hiro. It wasn't uncomfortable, but now the guitarist was grumbling, and it was kind of K's job to keep Bad Luck safe and well, so it was better to do what Hiro wanted for a change. Part of 'safe' and 'well' was also 'happy', after all.

Anyway, they were stuck here until someone came and pulled the cart from beneath the chute, which could be any length of time.

"You need to move your--yeah, that's it, and if I..." Hiro and K navigated their limbs so that K was now crouched above Hiro, the bulge in his trousers obvious.

Hiro eyed the bulge. "Really, K? Here?"

"Why not?" K fidgeted above him, sliding a hand into his trousers and pulling out the pistol. "Tohma forbade any rifles in the hotel. But Gertie here is always with me."

Hiro snorted with laughter. "Gertie? You name your guns?!"

"You name your guitars," K shot back, pouting.

Hiro raised a brow. So it was possible to bother K, after all. He always seemed so together. "Point taken," he grinned, settling back against the bundled-up sheets. "Gertie, though? Really?"

"Gertie is my mother's name," K replied. He settled too, more or less straddling Hiro's lap. There was no other option; the cart wasn't that big, and was already half-filled with sheets when they fell into it. K avoided Hiro's glare. He didn't like seeing the guitarist's pretty face looking so angry.

But Hiro wasn't angry, just uncomfortable. The way K sat on top of him was causing all kinds of impulses to fly through Hiro's brain, the kind he usually only got when he was with a girl. Hiro felt his cheeks heat up. Evidently he'd been hanging around Shuichi too much.

Trying to ignore the stirrings of his body, and not meeting K's eyes, Hiro crossed his arms. "So she's Gertie, and she named you K? That's kinda weird for an American, isn't it?"

"Claude K. Winchester!" K grinned proudly.

"What?"

"See. Japanese don't know 'Claude'. But you know 'K'."

"Oh." Hiro blinked. He'd always thought K was a code name. So K's name was Claude, huh? "Ku-ro-ro...Kuroudo..." he tried.

"Close," K chuckled, shifting on Hiro's lap. "Claude. Try again."

Hiro felt his loins tense, and wriggled beneath him. "Kurooooodo."

"Nearly..." Shifting again, K noted the growing hardness beneath him. " _Clauuude_." He spoke his name huskily, pressing his butt into Hiro's lap.

Hiro gasped. "Claude!"

K grinned. "Better." He toyed with his pistol, running his fingers carefully over the barrel. "Feels like you're pretty loaded right now," he murmured.

"Eh?" Beet red and rock hard, Hiro gaped at him. This was so embarrassing! He wasn't supposed to get hard when another man was in his lap!

"Hm?" K's blue eyes appeared innocent, but his lips quivered as he fought the urge to smirk. "Oh! The gun..." He tucked it into his waistband.

"Loaded...?" Hiro asked weakly, pointing to the pistol and hoping that's all K had been talking about.

"Relax. It's safe."

"It had better be. If that goes off, it will castrate us both." Hiro couldn't keep his mind off the contents of his pants now. Or K's. K was tall. Was he big, too...? Hiro blushed darker.

"Is it bothering you? Here." K pulled the pistol out again, and pressed it into Hiro's hand. "Hold it. You have control." He smiled, and Hiro knew that if he had anything, it definitely _wasn't_ control. Not over this situation at least. K was looking at him too hungrily.

"You're loaded too, aren't you, Hiro?" K asked sweetly. "Leave it to me." His hands were suddenly on Hiro's belt, and Hiro panicked.

"K, stop it!"

"You don't want me to?" K eyed him.

Hiro gulped. K could read him too well. He wanted it, sure. But here? Now? Couldn't K see how embarrassing this was? This felt dirty. Considering some of the sheets, it was, too. "...here?" he asked, uncertain.

"Perfect place for a Test Drive!"

"English, K!" Hiro sighed. He understood, but K's insistence on mixing English into his sentences was frustrating, and definitely not getting him in the mood.

"Claude," K corrected. "And you know what I said, Hiro." He leaned closer and nipped at Hiro's lips. "There's nobody here but us," he murmured softly, between kisses. "Nobody has to know."

Hiro raised his brows, but the next time K's lips touched his, Hiro's eyes fluttered closed and his arms slipped around K's strong shoulders. He held the pistol tightly and kissed back, jeans feeling tighter by the second.

"The sheets..." he protested half-heartedly when they parted for air. "We'll get them dirty."

K shrugged. "They're already dirty." He slid a hand inside Hiro's jeans, and the guitarist moaned.

"Ohh, K..."

"Claude. Call me Claude," K insisted, voice quiet for a change. He freed Hiro from the tight confines of his jeans and boxers, Hiro watching all the while. It was hot, seeing someone undress you. Amidst the sheets, he noticed a bulge in K's pants, too. This time it surely wasn't a gun.

Hiro reached towards the bulge with his free hand, and earned a moan from K when he rubbed it through the dark cloth of K's trousers. "K--Claude," Hiro corrected himself. "You too?" He smiled, horny, not caring anymore about being proper or K being the band's manager, or even the fact they were in a laundry cart in a hotel basement, where anyone might walk in. Hiro just wanted to get his pleasure and be done with it. He unfastened K's pants and the blond fidgeted around to free himself. Hiro's thoughts were confirmed: K _was_ big. Impressively so. Hiro's ass clenched. Thank god K didn't want to fuck. There was no way he'd take all of that in.

Slowly, K curled his hand around Hiro's length and began to stroke him. Hiro tried to repay the courtesy, but K's touch caused him to tremble so much that the blond soon knocked his hand away and began stroking them both, together, firmly and surely.

Hiro tilted his head back and moaned, and K kissed his throat.

"C-Claude..." he uttered breathily, gripping the back of K's shirt with his free hand, and holding the pistol tightly in the other. "Faster."

K complied, his expert touch suggesting he'd jerked other guys off plenty of times before. "You like that?" he asked softly.

"Mm..." Hiro could only grunt and nod, and cling to him tighter. This was almost too much; Hiro had expected a hand-job of military precision and coldness, but K was surprisingly gentle and attentive. He felt teeth nip at his collarbone, skilled fingers working his arousal...

Hiro hit orgasm, body tensing and shuddering as his release spilled over onto K's hand.

"Claude..." Hiro moaned in delight. K cut off the sound with his lips, jerking himself off more roughly now that he only had to concentrate on his own arousal. Within moments he reached climax, seed spurting over Hiro's t-shirt and the nearby sheets.

Sweaty and panting, they lay there, forehead to forehead, hearts racing. Then K sat back wiped himself on the corner of a sheet, and zipped himself back into his pants. He noticed that Hiro was watching him as if in a daze, a half-smile upon his face.

"Sweet Honey," he said, affectionately, in English. K began to wipe him clean. "Let's tidy you up."

"Cute Claude," Hiro replied, also in English and unable to help himself. K _was_ cute when he was like this.

K smiled when he heard Hiro's English. "Sorry about your t-shirt." He motioned to the stains. He'd wiped off what he could, and felt guilty for not pulling the garment off Hiro before this all started (not to mention stupid. Sure he'd been horny, but it would have been a lot more fun if they'd been horny and _naked_ ).

Hiro shrugged. "I've got others." He didn't care. Right now he wanted to get out of there and shower. Possibly with K. "That was fantastic, Claude."

"I know," K grinned smugly.

Hiro snaked his arms around K and hugged him, finger tightening on the trigger of the pistol. The gun went off with an ear-splitting bang, and a bullet ricocheted up the laundry chute.

"Shit! You said the safety was on!" Hiro withdrew his arms and pushed the gun into K's hands.

"What safety?"

"You said it was safe!"

"I wasn't talking about the gun." K smirked.

"Oh." Hiro looked annoyed. "We could have got hurt, K."

"Am I not Claude anymore?" K tucked the gun away safely, and looked into Hiro's eyes questioningly.

"Claude," Hiro pouted. "They're going to ask questions if I start calling you that."

K smiled. "Mr K in public. Claude in private..." He looked down at their crotches and smirked.

Hiro arched a brow. Surely K didn't want to go again?

K caught his expression and laughed. "I'm not _that_ energetic."

"Thank god," Hiro sighed. "I'm exhausted."

"Me too. Let's go take a shower."

"We're stuck here," Hiro reminded him, jabbing the coarse plastic fabric that made up the side of the laundry cart.

"No Problem!" K pulled out a penknife, and within seconds had cut a hole in the side, large enough for them to wriggle through.

Hiro couldn't even chastise him for the English this time. They'd been stuck here for ages, and could have got out at any time! He was furious. Why hadn't K cut them out of there in the first place?

"Claude--"

"I like you. And I know you like me. That's why." Once again, K had read his mind.

"You tricked me into..." Hiro looked down at their bodies, still touching, although clothed. Was it better or worse that they hadn't fucked? "You tricked me!" Hiro repeated.

"I'm sorry." K's gaze was sincere. "I had to do something."

"Why didn't you just _say_ something?" It wasn't as though Hiro would have turned him down.

"You're too normal. You wouldn't have taken me seriously." K's words weren't accusatory, but Hiro felt guilty. Maybe he _was_ too normal. Maybe everyone around him wasn't as insane as he thought.

"I--Claude..." Hiro began. "...we have to keep this quiet." Might as well go with it, he thought. K was pretty cute, and he did like him. It wasn't as though they weren't mature enough to stay professional at work. Unlike a certain pink-haired vocalist, who was undoubtedly making a lot of noise several floors up.

"Does that mean you still want that shower?" K slid out of the cart, and held out a hand to Hiro.

The guitarist sighed and grasped K's hand, letting the man hoist him out and onto his feet. "Of course it does."

"Really?" K smiled.

"Really." Hiro nodded, conscious of how K's hand held his almost possessively.

"Really really?"

"Really really."

"Really really really?"

"Claude..." Hiro's voice took on a warning tone, and K laughed.

"I know. Come on, the service elevator is this way." K tugged Hiro along.

The elevator was much bigger than the laundry cart, but the pair rode in it as though it were smaller: chest to chest, mouth to mouth, hands roaming. After what had happened _in_ the laundry cart, personal space didn't seem so much of an issue.


End file.
